So Far to Go
by KylieKyotie
Summary: Thornton sees Margaret at the train station with a strange man. She admits he is a "family member." Thornton's not happy about it - he still has strong feelings and so feels a claim to her. They have a long way to go in understanding each other. But they are determined...they can't seem to stay apart. (AU) Comments at end of CH 4.
1. CH 1: A Chance Meeting

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**_Milton, Outwood Train Station – 7:30 pm_**

Margaret watched tearfully as the train pulled away from the station. Frederick held his hand on the glass window. She stood on the platform as the distance grew between them, and held her hand up at the same height, as if trying to hold it against his on the glass. They didn't know if or when they would ever see each other again. At least they fulfilled their mother's wish. She was able to see her only son once more before she died. Margaret was so engrossed keeping Frederick in sight as long as possible; she didn't realize Mr. Thornton had walked up behind her until he politely cleared his throat to get her attention.

Margaret jumped and turned around, startled at the sound. Her face was tear-stained with red puffy blotches under her eyes from crying. "Mr. Thornton." She felt immediately embarrassed at her crying and now Mr. Thornton was a witness to the aftermath. Well, _mostly_ the aftermath, since she still had unshed tears in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. She always disliked how she looked after crying – red nose, red eyes, and puffy cheeks on an already full face – as if crying wasn't bad enough, she thought it really most unbecoming.

"Miss Hale." His expression softened at her teary eyes and obvious embarrassment. Only a half an hour earlier he had seen her hugging a young man goodbye and glared angrily from across the tracks, when they saw him observing their embrace. Of course he thought it improper. Being out after dark with a man and hugging him in public was disreputable and inappropriate for a lady. Especially when the lady was the woman he loved who would not have him. Margaret felt mortified. Of all the people in Milton to see them, it had to be Mr. Thornton. Despite his anger, Thornton's sense of duty bound him to make sure Margaret reached home safely. So, he came back after he checked on his cotton order leaving from the same train, and waited unseen, watching her on the platform until the train left the station before speaking with her.

They stared at each other – a thoroughly awkward moment, at least for Margaret. Finally, she said nervously, fidgeting and lacing her gloved fingers together, "What are you doing here?"

He raised his eyebrows in a look that clearly conveyed that he wanted to ask her the same thing. "I'm here on business. I was making sure a large order from Marlborough Mill bound for London was safely loaded. What brings _you_ out so late?" he asked pointedly. Even though he tried to control his voice, his question came out a little sharper than he intended. After all, he wasn't her father or brother or husband, free to impose his will as he wished.

Margaret flinched at his tone. There was certainly no shame in seeing her long-absent brother to the station, but no one knew her brother Frederick. The family kept his visit a secret for his protection. She didn't want to lie to Mr. Thornton, but she didn't want to endanger Frederick. "I was saying my goodbyes to a family member." He looked at her intently; she looked away, uncomfortable with his close regard.

"Even so, it would have been better to board an earlier train. I'm sure you're aware it is not proper to be out after dark with-"

Her nerves were raw from crying. She had just lost her mother and now she was losing her brother – again. She didn't have the tolerance for his admonishment, and blurted out, exasperated, "Mr. Thornton, _please_. This was the last possible train he could board - it was a short visit as it was – we wanted mother to have as many loved ones with her as possible. I was trying to come and go discreetly, but you saw us and it looked like you thought – well, I don't know – thought it was something that it wasn't," she finished in a rush. Thornton graciously handed her a handkerchief. "Thank you," she said, accepting the neatly monogrammed cloth and dabbing her eyes.

He looked at her attentively for a moment, and then said firmly, "I'm walking you home," offering his arm. Margaret felt suddenly tired. Mr. Thornton was clearly determined and she didn't have the strength to protest. She welcomed seeing him, wanting to ease the strained feelings between them, but would have preferred better circumstances. Pulling her hood over her head, she hooked her arm through his. She hoped he wouldn't try to lecture her all the way home. But given his angry expression earlier, and his obvious concern now, she thought he probably would.

"Won't this _also_ give the wrong impression?" Margaret asked weakly.

"Most certainly, but it's a necessity. You should know better than to be out alone at night. I don't know what you were thinking," Thornton chided.

Margaret thought how in the short time they had known each they had experienced the highs and lows of social and personal interactions. Their first meeting was intense and disturbing, when Margaret saw Mr. Thornton beat a man for smoking in the mill. The shock of his violence convinced Margaret the ways of the north made for an unfortunate, bleak reality. It was a harsh introduction. Then they had a period of much more agreeable meetings. It seemed they were actually becoming friends or at least friendly when they talked in the mill yard about workers and masters, and shared different discussions when having tea after her father's lessons. Soon though, they were at odds.

They started having more difficult interactions that ended in arguments and upset. The worst being Mr. Thornton's proposal and her uncharacteristically harsh treatment of him. She realized too late that he was a better man than she thought and even found, surprisingly and painfully, that she cared about him. He was honest and straightforward, qualities that improved upon further acquaintance.

It struck Margaret that Mr. Thornton was being somewhat domineering in his insistence to walk her home. He didn't ask – he demanded. On this occasion though Margaret didn't argue, she hoped it was the beginning of improved feelings between them. Maybe they could even try to begin again as friends, despite all that had happened to create the current discord.

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**_Marlborough Mills Yard_**

_The Hales had only been in Milton for a short time. Margaret went to get the name of a doctor from Mrs. Thornton for her mother, who had been in a frail condition and low spirits since arriving. She stopped to talk to some young workers she knew who were on a break, sitting on sacks of cotton supplies in the mill yard. She had inquired after one girl's mother and how they felt about their work and the possibility of a strike. They stopped talking abruptly, looking at the ground anxiously. Margaret felt confused, but then she saw Mr. Thornton standing behind her, observing the conversation. She walked over to Mr. Thornton to explain why she was there._

He waited expectantly as she made her way over to him. "Your mother has kindly given me the name of a doctor."

"You're ill?" he asked, concerned.

"No. It's just a precaution." Tilting her head towards the young workers, she explained, "Your mother is always accusing me of knowing nothing about Milton and the people who live here."

"Doubt she meant you should hang onto the tittle-tattle of young piecers and spinners."

"They weren't telling me any secrets," she assured him.

"There was a man with a survey here a few weeks ago. Quite the new thing. They've become practiced at telling others the wages and the working conditions." Thornton sounded resigned to the new imposition on his business.

"Do you mind that? If they tell the truth?"

"Of course not. I don't apologize to anyone about the wages I pay or how I run Marlborough Mills. It's no secret. It's in plain sight for anyone to see."

"What about how they spend their money?"

"Well that would be none of my business. My duty is to the efficient running of the mill, if I neglect that all the workers will cease to earn an income."

"But what about your moral duty?"

"If she keeps to her hours and does nothing to disrupt the honest and efficient working of the mill, what she does on her own time is none of my concern. Here in the North, we value our independence." He explained with a light smile, seemingly amused at her inquisitiveness.

"But surely you must take an interest."

He stopped, standing close, looking at her with disarming directness. "I'm her employer. I'm not her father or her brother that I can command her to do as I please. Sorry to disappoint you Miss Hale, I would like to play the overbearing master, but I'll answer your questions as honestly as I'm sure you ask them." Margaret was surprised at the flutter in her stomach when he leaned down to slightly emphasize "overbearing master" in a soft voice.

She nodded slightly, distracted when she observed Mrs. Thornton's stern face watching from the Thornton house window.

Thornton turned to see what attracted Margaret's attention, and said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent business," leaving quickly.

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**_Milton, Evening, City Streets_**

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Margaret's head was down. It would be hard for anyone to recognize her with the hood of her cloak dropped half way over her face. Thornton on the other hand was highly recognizable. He was an important man in Milton and therefore known by many as a public figure. Although he pulled his hat down as low as he could on his forehead and bent his head forward to hide his face, it did little to disguise him. Of course Margaret was right. The two of them walking together at night would be the tittle tattle of Milton, just like they were after Margaret tried to shield him from the angry mob during the worker's strike. But he wasn't about to let her walk home alone, not through these gritty streets with ruffians lurking about in alleyways. They'd just have to get to the Hale house quickly and try to avoid being seen. Damn the tittle tattle, if it came to that.

Soon they were walking down a quiet street outside of the station. Thornton glanced over at Margaret, concerned but irritated by her recklessness. He thought her actions deserved further reproof. Ironic though, because he was also quite happy to be alone with her, even if was highly improper in its own right. They had only seen each other a few times since she spurned his proposal. Conflicting feelings had raged in him unabated since that day. It was exhausting and endless. He was furious with her. He was offended by her. He missed her. He wanted her. He loved her. It went around and around. The only respite he had was to work harder and try to forget. But he didn't forget. And now, here they were, walking alone at night. His mother's faced flashed for a second in his mind – wearing a severe, shocked look at _his_ recklessness. Thornton banished the disapproving image.

"You said 'family' member?" Margaret nodded. "Was his carrying case in your front hall the day I stopped by your house after the World Fair?" She nodded again. He wondered why Margaret was so unforthcoming on the subject, but he was greatly relieved that the man wasn't a suitor. He had stormed away on that occasion; certain Margaret had rejected him because she had another suitor already clamoring at her door. He suspected the guest might be her London acquaintance, Henry Lennox.

Thornton still fumed when he thought of Henry's familiarity with Margaret at the World Fair in London. They met unexpectedly at the Fair, not long after Margaret's rejection. Seeing another man so comfortable paying close regard to her was infuriating. Thornton knew he didn't have the right, but his feelings were stronger than ever, and he felt a claim to her. In his hurt and frustration, he wanted to demand an explanation. Why was he rejected? And what was this bloody man Henry to her?

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**_World Fair, London_**

_Mrs. Hale was feeling better than she had in weeks and urged Margaret to accept her cousin's invitation to attend the World Fair in London. Margaret objected, saying she didn't want to leave. But Mrs. Hale convinced her to go, saying she could tell her all about the Fair when she returned and that would cheer her up. Margaret was actually happy to go. She had just rejected Mr. Thornton's proposal and she felt upset, wondering if she made a mistake. She definitely felt ashamed of how she had spoken to him._

_On that day with Mr. Thornton, for some reason, she felt exposed and vulnerable and it seemed his proposal was offered out of pity and obligation after the strike incident. It was humiliating. Mr. Thornton was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Milton. He was certainly the most handsome man of her acquaintance, but she couldn't marry a man who sought her under those conditions, even Mr. Thornton. What kind of marriage would they have? It was impossible – completely impossible._

_Margaret and her companions walked through the aisles, looking at the wonderful, exotic displays. It was fascinating to be transported to different cultures and countries as well as have a first look at new inventions and modern conveniences. What an exciting time they lived in, she thought to herself. Henry had been pointing out the superiority of London to Milton. He was polite but clearly trying to persuade Margaret to come back to a better city, a better climate, and ultimately, to him. She answered his latest volley with a smile and walked ahead of the group, distancing herself to enjoy some of the exhibits on her own. As much as she liked Henry, she hadn't changed her mind about him. She regarded him as a family friend or relation, much like a brother or cousin, nothing more._

_She saw a crowd of men standing near one of the industrial displays. At their center was Mr. Thornton, captivating the audience with his opinions on industry and his keen business sense._

"You're all here to see this fine machinery. Technologically, we're the envy of the world. If only there was a mechanism to allow us all to live together. To take care of the great benefits that comes from industry. But that will be for future generations. We can bring back marmosets from Mozambique, but we cannot stop man from behaving as he always has."

One of the men asked, "Don't you think we can bring about an end to strikes?"

"Not in my lifetime. But with time and patience, we might try to bleed them of their bitterness." He observed Margaret at the edge of the crowd, listening to him speak. The audience wouldn't understand, but he said sarcastically, glaring at her, "Miss Hale here knows the depths to which we men in Milton have fallen to, how we masters only strike to grind our workers into the ground."

"I certainly do _not_ think that, as Mr. Thornton could tell you, if he would know me at all," she said sharply, and turned to leave in a huff. Thornton quickly caught up to her.

"I've presumed to know you once before, and have been mistaken," he said accusingly, standing close so only she could hear him. He was tempted to grab her arm and shake her in his frustration. Thornton's sister, Fanny walked up to the display, saw Margaret and Thornton standing together and joined them.

"Miss Hale, how _delightful_." Her tone expressed the opposite of delight. She found Margaret to be unfashionable in her opinions, because she had them basically. Fanny and her friends talked of nothing but clothes and music and decorating, unless they were gossiping about other people in their social circle.

Thornton glanced at Margaret, suddenly guarded and silent. It might have ended up a tirade on his part, but he wanted to talk privately with her all the same.

Margaret forced a smile and said pleasantly, "You've managed to come to London at last."

"Mother only allowed it because John was coming, and Miss Latimer of course, who she approves of _greatly_. Seems to think she has more sense than me," Fanny said, snorting a pompous little laugh.

Thornton looked uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was for Margaret to think that Ms. Latimer was there with him. She came as Fanny's companion, although he knew she was hoping he would court her. Young women of marrying age in Milton were constantly trying to win his attention. In Miss Latimer's case, his own sister and mother were pushing her forward, in addition to her father. Unfortunately, Miss Latimer was much like his sister, silly and spoiled by overindulgence with little discipline. Thornton was not interested. He still wanted Margaret.

Henry Lennox caught up to the group and walked over to stand near Margaret.

Margaret, anxious at the awkward and unexpected meeting of her former suitors, said a little nervously, "Henry, do you know Mr. Thornton?" Henry looked carefully at Thornton. He had heard of Thornton through Mr. Bell. Thornton was held in high regard in the business community as a forward thinking, ambitious mill owner. He was also considered a very eligible match in Milton because he was wealthy _and_ handsome. Henry regarded him as a threat – an unwelcome competitor vying for Margaret's attention. It also appeared that something loomed between Margaret and Thornton. Thornton was darting looks at Margaret and she looked flustered.

"Mr. Thornton. All the way from Milton? My brother is interested in dabbling in cotton." Henry offered his remark in a superior tone, hoping to point out, again to Margaret, the inferiority of Milton and its people and the superiority of London and _its_ people.

"I'm not sure I'm the one to speak to. I'm not sure I'd know how to _dabble_." Thornton countered the barb from Henry sharply. Henry smirked. Thornton sighed heavily, and said, sounding resigned to what he considered gross misunderstanding, "I must go. You can enjoy the machinery like an exhibit in the zoo, I must live with it. I must get back to Milton today."

Henry looked at Margaret affectionately, and said smugly, "Give our regards to the Hale's. You must tell them how the London break is suiting Miss Hale. Don't you think Thornton? Doesn't Miss Hale look well?" Margaret knew Henry was claiming personal regard with her family in order to upset Thornton and show he had an attachment to her. She looked at Henry reproachfully.

Thornton glared at Henry, offended by the familiarity he showed towards Margaret and her family. Then he inclined his head to Margaret and said quietly, "Good day."

Margaret quickly adopted a friendly stance to diffuse Henry's arrogant remark and to show Thornton's alliance with her family. "Tell mother I'll be home soon, with so much to tell her." Thornton acknowledged her comment with a brief nod and walked away.

Fanny stamped her foot childishly, "Oh, John is such a stick in the mud!" Henry looked pleased as he watched Thornton stalk away from the group.

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**_Milton, Late Evening, City Streets_**

"You're not telling me everything," Thornton said, dissatisfied with Margaret's reticence about her family member.

"It's not for me to say," she said ambiguously.

"I'll respect your privacy on this subject, since you seem to feel it is none of my business, but you're maddening," he said curtly.

She was silent another minute, and then said quietly, "My father misses your lessons together." In that moment, a shift overcame their strained politeness and something else took its place, something much more personal and caring, even private.

He felt a pang in his heart when she reminded him of his missed lessons, as he couldn't help but revisit the event that drove him away from that study. But also, perhaps unreasonably, Thornton felt a glimmer of hope at her disclosure and the softness of her tone. He answered carefully, pondering the change he felt between them.

"It's taken some time to get things back to normal. The strike put everything behind schedule, so I work very long days to rectify those losses."

It was partially true. Mill business required more time and consideration since the strike. He could have made time for study with Mr. Hale though, if he wanted to. Mostly he had avoided the lessons because he couldn't bear to go to the house with the possibility of seeing Margaret there. A constant, dull ache inhabited his heart after her rejection, but actually _seeing_ her was pure torment, and he was afraid he might lash out and make things worse between them.

He saw Margaret's cloak hood bob, as she nodded her head. She was quiet. He felt impatient to continue; he wanted to hear her speak to him again in the same soft, familiar tone, to reassure him something was different, that _they_ were different. Thornton breathed deeply, willing himself patience - never his strong suit. Control yes, but patience was often fleeting. Knowing it to be a fragile moment – he remained silent – this was not the time to play the overbearing master.

"I should apologize, Mr. Thornton. I believe I have judged you harshly. You _are_ a gentleman and it was wrong of me to imply otherwise. I don't doubt that you have worked very hard to repair the damage done by the strike, but I believe you are reluctant to admit my offence. My thoughtlessness deprived my father of a friend that he valued greatly. My mother's illness and recent death has devastated him; he needs friendship now more than ever. Lately, I've come to understand and appreciate some of the northern ways. People here have a kind of directness and honesty in how they speak and how they act. There is very little artifice. In the south, everyone is concerned with appearances, with the look of a thing, not the heart of it," Margaret said contritely, in the soft voice and tone he hoped for.

He couldn't see her face, so her expression was a mystery – obscured by her hood. Could it be true? Did Margaret really regret refusing him? He countered his own thought objectively. That's not exactly what she said – she said she felt she had misjudged his _character_. Did she only regret the deprivation of a friendship on behalf of her father? Thornton felt almost light-headed. He wondered if maybe he had been holding his breath unconsciously.

"Thank you Miss Hale. I appreciate your honesty. I certainly never meant to make you uncomfortable. You are correct in your understanding of northern sensibilities; we value forthrightness in our expressions, otherwise we feel disingenuous."

Margaret frowned, still hidden from Thornton's view. He was skirting the crux of her apology, despite confirming that he valued directness. Did he still have feelings for her or not? She realized too late, that _she_ actually had feelings for Mr. Thornton. Somehow they were hidden from her until the source that inspired them was gone, driven away by her pride filled, impetuous outburst. His good opinion mattered more than she could say and Margret agonized over and over about every detail from that dreadful day when she spurned his proposal. It was unbearable to have these burgeoning feelings within her unanswered, not knowing his.

"Mr. Thornton, your response strikes me as very _indirect_ in light of your assurances that northern manners dictate forthright expression," she replied impatiently.

He smiled. Margaret was very discerning. He admired her lively, discriminating intelligence. It was one of the things he was so taken by on first acquaintance, in addition to her beauty. "Miss Hale, I believe you not only have come to appreciate our northern ways but have adopted some yourself," he teased.

She saw that he was amused. He saw that she was annoyed. He raised his eyebrows, quizzically. She huffed, and looked away.

"Miss Hale?"

"_What_, Mr. Thornton?" Oddly, her exasperation made him feel happier than he had in weeks.

"What is it you _want _me to say?"

"I want you to tell me if you stopped your lessons because of our disagreement or not."

"Our _disagreement_?" he repeated the word thoughtfully. "Is _that_ what it was?"

"Well, I didn't understand you, your intent."

"I don't think my _intent_ was ever in question. In that, I believe I _was_ direct. I told you I had developed feelings for you and I proposed marriage, or at least I tried to propose," he finished, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice.

Margaret's irritation dissolved. She said self-consciously, "I'm sorry I was so obtuse."

He stopped walking and looked at her closely. "And what are you now?"

She felt her chest constrict. A tight ball of emotions threatened to escape her control. She found it hard to look at him directly, but she did, she owed him that. Biting her lip nervously, she admitted, "Regretful." He waited. "_Regretful for refusing you_. I was unkind and abrupt. I knew even then it was not easy for you to speak of your feelings the way you did," she looked down, her face burning with the flush that claimed it, embarrassed to hold his gaze any longer.

Thornton placed his hand under her chin and guided her upwards to look at him again. "Would you like to remove your regret?" he asked gently. She caught her breath and nodded, unwanted tears springing to her eyes. "Miss Hale, Margaret, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Tears were running down her cheeks freely now. She nodded and said hoarsely, "Yes." The tightly wound emotions she'd held in check finally unraveled and overwhelmed her. Margaret buried her head in Thornton's chest, sobbing quietly. "Shhhhh," he cooed. He tucked a hand inside her hood and stroked the back of her neck. A fleeting thought of the scandalous spectacle they made crossed his mind. He ignored it.

After a few minutes, she inhaled a jagged breath and stepped back, pressing his handkerchief to her eyes. He kissed her forehead, finally able to breathe with a light heart, released from the pain that had burdened him for so many weeks.

He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and asked softly, "Shall we?"

She nodded and pulled her hood down further to cover her face and took his arm. They walked in silence most of the way to her house.

"We should speak with your father at the earliest."

"He'll be home and probably alone, although he does take frequent rest. He has given few lessons in the past weeks. Most likely, he'll be reading in his study."

"I know it's not the best time to ask for his permission, but after tonight we are very likely to become the subject of Milton's latest tittle tattle." He thought again of how he held her while she cried, for all to see, on the city street. "It's unlikely we went undetected between the train station and your house. We will need to observe the proper mourning period for your mother, but after that, we should make our formal announcement as soon as possible. Meanwhile, we can let a few people know informally – word will certainly spread quickly, even before it is official."

"Well, you should come in. I'll check on father."

They quickly entered the Hale house.

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The entryway was lit with a candle anticipating Margaret's return. Gas lines had not been laid yet in the old house, so there were no overhead or wall mounted gas lamps. It was a new and expensive luxury not extended to the insignificant rental property. Margaret brushed back her hood and unfastened her cloak, removing it along with her gloves. She asked quietly, "May I take your things?" Thornton removed his hat, gloves and overcoat and handed her the bundle. She placed their coats and gloves and hat on the hooks and small table to the side of the entryway. "Why don't you wait in the sitting room, while I check on my father," she said just above a whisper.

They walked upstairs. Another candle burned on the landing, on a small table at the top of the stairs. Thornton had been in the Hale's sitting room and the study many times over the course of their acquaintance. On the second floor, the sitting room sat on the opposite end of the hall to Mr. Hale's study with the master bedroom in-between. Another short flight of stairs next to the master bedroom led to two more bedrooms used by Margaret and Dixon, the housekeeper. The kitchen, dining room, and other common rooms were located on the first floor. It was a very modest house.

Margaret carried the candle from the landing table to light the way. She opened the door to the sitting room and held it open for Thornton, closing it behind him. The room was dark and quiet, save the meager light from the candle. Margaret busied herself lighting several more candles in the room.

Thornton watched Margaret move quietly through the room, scarcely able to believe what had passed between them the last hour. They were to marry, at last. If he hadn't pushed aside his anger after seeing her at the train station and insisted on walking her home, they wouldn't be here now. What a strange turn of events. He shook his head in disbelief.

Margaret turned to him, "Can I get you something to drink? A brandy or sherry? Or a glass of wine? she asked politely.

Thornton looked surprised. He had never seen Mr. Hale drink anything other than milk or tea, even at the gentlemen's club Thornton took him to, where spirits always flowed in great measure. He assumed the same disposition was followed in the household. "Thank you; I'd like a small brandy. I'm surprised you have spirits in the house, I've never seen your father partake."

Margaret opened a cupboard in a large bureau set against the wall and retrieved a glass and decanter of brandy. "He doesn't, he feels it isn't proper for a clergyman, but my mother used to have a glass of sherry at night. And, we keep some spirits on hand for guests." She poured a small glass and walked over to Thornton, handing it to him smoothly.

"And you? Do you drink spirits?" He knew so little of her habits or preferences.

"I occasionally joined my mother for a sherry, and at social events sometimes I have wine. Other than that, I mostly drink tea."

Thornton nodded. She turned toward the door. He placed his hand on her arm. She looked at him questioningly. He bent down and kissed her lightly on her lips. They smiled at each other.

"I'll go check on father," she said leaving the room quickly, closing the door quietly on her way out.

Thornton was left to his thoughts. He sat on a small couch to wait for Margaret and swirled his brandy restlessly. The last time he had been in the sitting room, was when he proposed to Margaret. He glanced around the room as memories of that day returned unbidden, in stark detail.

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**_The Hale House, Mr. Thornton's Proposal_**

_The morning after the strike incident, Thornton went to see Margaret, resolved to ask her to marry him. He did not believe she had the same regard for him that he held for her, but he hoped it was enough to accept him. Surely, her attempt to protect him from the angry mob showed some degree of affection? Thornton told his mother he had to try – he could not stay silent. Margaret consumed him._

_He waited in the small sitting room. Margaret entered the room quietly. He walked to the door and closed it behind her._

Gesturing at a bowl of fruit, he said somberly, "I had not noticed the color of this fruit, when I brought it. Miss Hale, I'm afraid I was very ungrateful yesterday."

"You have nothing to be grateful for."

"I think that I do."

"Well, I only did the least that anyone would have," she said, blushing, raising her head slightly.

"That can't be true." He looked confused.

"I was after all responsible for placing you in danger. I would have done the same for any man there." She clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting and walked to the window.

"Any man? So you approve of that violence. You think I got what I deserved?" A slow burn started to grip him as his temper took hold.

"No, of course not. But they were desperate. I know if you had talked—," she said, almost pleading.

Thornton took a deep breath, repressing his temper. "I forgot - you imagine them to be your friends."

"But if you were to be reasonable—," she implored, walking closer, the table still between them.

"Me? Are you saying that I am unreasonable?" His brow was furrowed and an angry edge outlined his words.

Becoming more anxious, she said, "If you would talk with them, and not set the soldiers on them, I know that they—"

"They will get what they deserve. Miss Hale, I didn't just come here to thank you. I came because...I think it very likely...I know I have never found myself in this position before. It's difficult to find the words. Miss Hale, my feelings for you are very strong-" He stammered slightly while he tried to regain his composure. This was not going at all how he had planned. He wanted to express how she had taken him, his feelings, but instead they were arguing and he found himself becoming angry with her pleas. She did not understand his business or him.

"Please, stop. Please don't go any further," she interrupted him, walking away from him again to stand at the window.

He narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Please don't continue in that way. It's not the way of a gentleman," she said anxiously, wringing her hands.

He walked over to stand closer and said heatedly, "I'm well aware, in your eyes at least, I'm not a gentleman, but I think I deserve to know why I am offensive."

Exasperated, she said, "It offends me that you should speak to me as if it were your duty to rescue my reputation..."

Angry now, his voiced raised, Thornton spat, "I spoke to you about my feelings because I love you, I have no thought for your reputation."

"You think that because you are rich, and my father is in reduced circumstances, that you can have me for your possession? I suppose I should expect no less from someone in trade."

"I don't want to possess you; I wish to marry you because I love you."

"You shouldn't, because I do not like you and never have."

All anger suddenly drained from him. He walked over to the far wall, head bent. It was another minute until he could speak again.

"One minute we talk of the color of fruit and the next of love. How does that happen?" he asked wearily.

"My friend, Bessie Higgins, she's dying," Margaret said quietly, gazing out the window, unable to face Thornton.

"And of course, that is my fault too," he retorted.

"I'm sorry," she apologized in a trembling voice, finally turning towards him.

"For _what_? That you find my feelings for you offensive? Or that you assume because I am in trade, I am only capable of thinking in terms of buying and selling? Or that I take pleasure in sending my employees to an early grave?" Thornton glared at her, not understanding the motivation for her refusal, and dissatisfied with her excuses.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry to be so blunt. I have not learned how to refuse, how to respond, when a man speaks to me the way you have," she implored him.

"Oh, there are others? This happens to you every day? Of course, you must have to disappoint so many men that offer you their heart," he said bitterly.

"Please understand Mr. Thornton—"

He walked to her and stood near, glaring intently, then said, "I do understand. I understand you completely." He stormed out of the room - offended, hurt, angry, and bewildered at her harsh rejection of him.

_Margaret stood alone in the room for some time, wrestling with her feelings. She couldn't understand her violent reaction to Mr. Thornton's proposal. She knew that she offended him deeply and regretted her harshness, but how could she accept him feeling so conflicted? Until she understood her own heart, how could she offer it to anyone else?_

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Thornton heard a commotion in the hall and then the sound of raised voices. He quickly ran out of the room to find Margaret. The door of Mr. Hale's study was half-open and he could hear Margaret and Dixon talking excitedly to each other. Thornton ran the length of the hall and entered the study. Margaret and Dixon were hunched over Mr. Hale, who was sitting in his large overstuffed chair, the one he used for reading.

Margaret looked up, eyes wide in a near panic, "Oh John! My father is dead."


	2. CH 2: Engaged at Last

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_John walked ahead of her on a dark street in Milton. He strode quickly, obscured by smoke and mist. Margaret tried to catch up to him, but he didn't seem to know she was there – his long strides quickly outpaced her. Margaret was afraid she would lose him as the distance grew between them. She tried to call out his name, but the sound died in her throat. Then he was gone – there one minute and then, just gone. Margaret felt confused. Now she stood on a deserted, sterile street in London. One perfect house after another along a tidy brick lined road. There was no smoke or mist hanging in the air or dirt-packed thoroughfares like in Milton. John wasn't here either._

_Margaret heard banging. The smell of lavender wafted through the air. From above, she saw herself lying in a white satin-lined coffin. It didn't seem that strange. The light inside of her had been seeping out a little bit every day. She wondered how death came. Maybe it was from a sudden illness? Unless it was possible to simply die of heart sorrow – from missing your beloved so much you withered - without the other half who would certainly make you whole?_

_Then she felt it – reality imposed itself - it was the lavender-scented pillow she felt and smelled from her own bed. Shaking off sleep, Margaret looked around the room, disoriented. She was at her Aunt Shaw's house in London. It was just after dawn and early light was tentatively beginning to stream through the window. It still felt disconcerting to wake up in that too familiar house, even though it had already been 3 months since leaving Milton after her parents' funeral. It was as if she returned to her childhood every night, going back in time, and then waking to find she was an adult – out of place and out of time._

_She longed to wake up with John, as his wife, and he as her husband. She remembered his soft mouth, hot on hers, tongue searching, his wonderful musky scent, his strong embrace and his hands exploring her body unabashed. Confident in the knowledge that she belonged to him and he to her – knowing they belonged together. They had been impossibly, improperly, but beautifully and rightfully intimate. The memory was pleasant at first – she tried to relive it often, drawing it to her as a comfort to remember him and feel the promise of their fulfillment to come. Now it haunted her more than anything else since their unrealized passion hung in the balance and served as just another painful reminder of their separation._

_Upon first arriving in London, Margaret dreamed of John every night. Vivid dreams of them talking, holding each other, stirring each other with passionate kisses – everything she wanted. Now when she dreamed, he appeared in patches, here and there - less real, less solid, and further and further away somehow – from within and without._

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_**London, Shaw Residence**_

More banging - someone was knocking on her door. It roused Margaret to sit up and face the present day. "Come in," Margaret called out. One of the young house maids, Anna, entered the room. She was a shy, sweet girl, always respectful and reserved.

"Mornin' miss," she said, trying not to smile too much and show her teeth. She still felt embarrassed when she entered one of the ladies rooms, whatever the reason, but she was also pleased and honored at the privilege to serve a lady such as Margaret. Margaret was always nice to her. "Just going to light the fire for ya and bring in your washin' water," she explained, looking down, not wanting to look at Margaret in her night-clothes.

"Thank you Anna."

Anna quickly lit the fire and brought in a steaming pitcher of hot water, placing it on the washing table in a far corner of the room, behind a wall screen. She walked to the door and paused, waiting politely for any instructions.

"I'd like a bath in about an hour, after I've had breakfast. Is anyone downstairs yet?" Margaret asked.

"No miss, but everything is ready," she answered.

"Thank you Anna, I'll be down shortly."

"Yes, miss," Anna barely looked up, but gave a shy smile and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

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_Margaret and John returned from the train station together. They finally reached an understanding after weeks of discord. They were to marry and wanted to tell Mr. Hale as soon as possible. When Margaret went to see her father, leaving John in the sitting room, she discovered Mr. Hale was also dead, following his wife only one day later._

_**3 Months Earlier, Milton, Hale Residence – 8:30 pm**_

John rushed into the study and saw Margaret and Dixon standing over Mr. Hale, in his reading chair.

Margaret looked up, eyes wide in a near panic, "Oh John! My father is dead."

John walked over and put his arm around her waist. He looked at Mr. Hale. He looked like he could be asleep, except that his pallor was gray. Dixon was standing next to the chair. Her expression was one of shock. She just stared at him blankly.

"We need to move him to his bed and then get the doctor," John said softly.

Margaret and Dixon looked at him with dazed expressions.

John moved to the front of the chair and picked up the lifeless body.

Margaret clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling a cry.

"Which room?"

Margaret pointed mutely, and then led him to her father's room.

John laid Mr. Hale's body on his bed. He was able to straighten him out, since he hadn't stiffened yet. His eyes were already closed; he very likely died while he was resting, closing his eyes for one final nap.

"We need to get the doctor now," John instructed in a soft, soothing voice.

"I'll go while you take care of Mr. Hale," Dixon offered, propriety and duty as Margaret's chaperone pushed aside in that desperate moment. She bustled out of the room, leaving John and Margaret alone together in the house while she went to notify the doctor.

"Is there anything else we can do for him?" Margaret asked uncertainly.

"I think we should just wait for the doctor and let him do whatever is necessary. I'm sure he'll be here soon," John replied somberly.

Margaret nodded. "I should put cloth over the mirrors and stop the clocks. I don't know the exact time, so I'll use the time we arrived, which was about 8:15 pm."

John accepted the commonly held superstitions and thought it might give Margaret some comfort to observe them. The ritual called for all visible mirrors and clocks in the dwelling to be covered and stopped, respectively, as long as the deceased was present. The mirrors were covered to prevent the spirit of the deceased from being trapped in them and the clocks were stopped to prevent the bad luck of a death in the house from affecting all those who entered or lived there.

"May I help?" he asked. She nodded.

He followed her to a cupboard near the wash room on the first floor. She took out a stack of neatly ironed cloths. He held out his arms. She gently laid them across his forearms and walked to the front entrance. She took one of the cloths from the stack to place it on the hall mirror. They both realized his height made him the better choice to drape the cloths. They looked at each other, understanding instantly. Margaret held out her arms and John handed the stack back to her and then took the cloth and placed it over the hall mirror. She led him to the other mirrors throughout the house – there weren't many. Then they set and stopped the clocks, which numbered even fewer – the humble Hale residence being what it was.

They returned the remaining cloths to the cupboard. After putting them away, Margaret looked lost. Without an activity to focus on, she was in danger of being overwhelmed with grief. John was keenly aware of the shift, noticing her forlorn expression. He pulled her close, pressing her head against his chest while wrapping his arms tightly around her. He kissed the top of her head. She sighed heavily, soothed by his comforting touch.

"I love you Margaret, with all my heart. I'll do everything I can for you," John said softly. She nodded. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. It was rough and calloused; she loved the feel of him, the smell of him - a strong, virile body enclosing a devoted heart. She felt fortunate to be in his arms. To be the one he loved – as she loved him – grateful she didn't lose him as she had feared only too recently. He lifted her chin to look tenderly into her large, luminous green eyes.

"I love you John. You're the one I love," she murmured.

He caught his breath. It was almost too much to bear – winning her hand and her heart seemingly all in one night. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her neck, and finally her lips. She melted into him, moving her hands up his chest, over his jaw line – rough with stubble from a day's growth, then behind his head and finally running her fingers through his hair, luxuriating as her senses drank him in. He pulled her closer, pressing his lips hard against hers.

She felt a desperate need to be comforted by him in a very physical way – unknown and unfamiliar yet instinctive. He wanted to absorb the hurt, the horrible heartache to come that she was just starting to feel. Their kiss deepened, sparking an all-consuming passion both managed to hold at bay, momentarily. But it demanded release. Emotions were raw, stretched and exposed by tragedy – decorum and careful restraint fell away. Each touch felt like fire. Each answering response fanned the flames…

Time sped up, and then slowed down again as they mingled, caressed, spoke words of love and reassured each other of their desire – their wants and needs. Eventually, they lay quietly together – sprawled on a chaise lounge in the window-less common room next to the wash room, spent and contented - clothes in disarray. Mindful they could be discovered by Dixon at any moment, they collected themselves. Redressing, slipping on cast-off garments, fastening buttons, retying his cravat, straightening and tucking pulled fabric.

Margaret's hair was mostly down; the many pins were unable to withstand the force of John's hands when he buried them in her hair. Her scalp was a little sore where lengths of hair were pulled loose from restraining pins and braids. John helped to twist and smooth her tresses back into a neat bundle, expertly applying the pins where needed. She looked at him questioningly. "I used to help with Fanny's hair when she was little," he admitted proudly, smirking. Margaret smiled at the sweet image this conjured and ran her fingers through his hair, patting and pushing down the tufts raised during her own rummaging.

John looked to see if any passion marks could be seen above her bodice – sure to show in stark relief against her creamy white skin. Luckily none were visible there, although he saw a few as she redressed, now hidden. The heat of his mouth pulled and scorched skin at the height of longing, leaving tell-tale red welts, as he was unable to resist feverishly kissing her expanse once uncovered. They looked each other over, turning so the other could assess and correct any signs of abandon in their appearance. He nodded and kissed her forehead. She nodded in return and laid her hand on his cheek, brushing his lips lightly with her thumb. He longed to take her thumb into his mouth and savor it. Instead, he allowed desire to quietly subside. They washed quickly, removing the final traces of intimacy.

Moving to the kitchen, John and Margaret stood together in comfortable silence preparing tea and sandwiches – enough to accommodate themselves in addition to Dixon and Dr. Donaldson, whenever they finally arrived. John consulted his pocket watch. It had been over an hour since Dixon left to bring Dr. Donaldson to the house. Twice proven, a lot could happen in an hour – reconciliation, a promise to marry, a tragic death, and enough passion for a wedding night – almost – somehow they stopped before that final act. Now their wedding night would be a promise of completion – with intimate knowledge of each other fueling the anticipation.

He felt heartened by Margaret's response to him – she had as much desire and longing for him as he had for her. Their marriage would truly be a great love affair. Unbeknownst to either, strong feelings had been hidden, smoldering beneath a calm surface. Certainly, she was much more composed outwardly – he never would have guessed at her fire. On the other hand, he couldn't always reign in his temper and had been sorely tempted to crush her with kisses at times when she most frustrated him. He shook his head, pondering the extraordinary rush of events in such a short amount of time.

They shared the tea and sandwiches in the sitting room. Both were hungry. Upon observation, they would have appeared quietly composed, simply bearing the evening's tragedy as best they could with no hint of the explosion of passion they had just experienced. The sound of the front door opening and Dixon calling out her return brought them to their feet. Dr. Donaldson removed his hat and coat and travelled upstairs with Dixon, carrying a leather satchel containing various instruments and medicines used in his work. John and Margaret greeted them from just outside the sitting room door. Margaret had replaced the candle on the hall table.

John had an arm wrapped loosely around Margaret's waist. Dixon looked at them disapprovingly with a furrowed brow and Dr. Donaldson quickly masked his surprise at the public display of affection. No one knew about their engagement yet. John and Margaret looked at each other quickly, realizing at once the reason for the reactions. They already felt so united they forgot they were the only ones who actually knew it. John kept his arm in place though, protectively - stubbornly; Margaret needed to be held and comforted. The seeming impropriety would soon be absolved when they explained the change in their status.

Dr. Donaldson bowed his head to them. John and Margaret returned the gesture. "Miss Hale, Mr. Thornton. I'm so sorry for your loss. I came as quickly as I could."

"Thank you Dr. Donaldson, we appreciate your concern and help this evening. My fiancé, Mr. Thornton, moved father to his bed, but we didn't know what to do after that."

"Oh, excuse me. I didn't know about your engagement. May I offer my sincere congratulations? I hope it is a source of comfort during this difficult time," he responded graciously. Dixon gaped at them in shock. There's nothing very subtle about Dixon, Margaret thought.

"Thank you Dr. Donaldson. We are very happy about our future together. We were delaying the official announcement for a proper mourning period with respect to Mrs. Hale, but we intended to seek Mr. Hale's blessing this very evening," John explained.

"Oh, Miss Margaret, I had no idea that was why you and Mr. Thornton arrived together this evening!" Dixon exclaimed.

"Please don't be anxious Dixon. I would have told you straight-away, but I discovered father just after I left Mr. Thornton in the sitting room and then of course all else was forgotten. I wish we could have shared our happiness with father, as Mr. Thornton was such a favorite of his. Father valued his friendship as much as he enjoyed their scholarly pursuits. I know it would have given him great joy to see us wed," Margaret said, pointing out Mr. Hale's certain approval of the marriage, for both Dixon and Dr. Donaldson's sake as well as to dispel any of Dixon's possible misgivings about John, knowing her low opinion of Milton and its industry. Margaret didn't feel she could bear an objection or any interference with regard to marrying John – nothing would dampen her happiness on _that_ front.

John squeezed Margaret's waist, letting her know he appreciated her explanation.

"Happiness in the face of death is a blessing," Dr. Donaldson stated simply. "May I examine Mr. Hale now? I will speak with you afterwards," he finished matter-of-factly.

Dixon stepped forward. "This way doctor," she offered, leading him to Mr. Hale's bedroom.

"Dixon, Mr. Thornton and I will be in the sitting room having tea, please join us when you are through," Margaret called after her, and then she and John returned to the sitting room. They resumed their places on the couch.

"Nicely done," John said approvingly.

"Thank you. I wanted to put a fine point on it so everyone understood the regard my father had for you. I know he would have been very happy to have you as his son-in-law," Margaret replied wistfully.

"I would have been honored to call him father-in-law," John said sincerely.

Margaret suddenly looked sad. "What is it?" John asked, concerned at her mood change.

"It's about the mourning period we have to observe before we marry." John nodded.

"I expect that means at least 9 months, and I'm sure my Aunt Shaw will insist I live with her in London. I really have no other option. My father's fortunes were obviously diminished and I have no other family. It's a fair distance and a long time to be apart," she finished quietly.

John pulled her hands into his, looking at her intently. "We'll be okay Margaret. Nine months isn't that long to properly plan a wedding and a future. I meant it when I said I'll do anything for you. I don't want to let you go, now or ever, but we'll make the best of it and then we can happily spend the rest of our days together. The Mill is still recovering from the strike, so I would be a mostly absent husband anyways," he tried to sound reassuring, but he was pushing down his own anxiety at the separation, even though in truth he did need time to devote to the Mill's economic recovery.

Dr. Donaldson spoke with Margaret, John, and Dixon after examining Mr. Hale. He said the cause of death was a heart attack. Margaret observed sadly that his heart couldn't go on without his beloved wife. Dr. Donaldson offered the comfort that Mr. Hale died quickly and by all signs while asleep. Physical indicators pointed to a time of death less than an hour before Margaret found him. By a strange fate, Mr. Hale left this life during the same time that John and Margaret were promising to unite theirs. Margaret thanked him and said she was relieved her father didn't suffer. He was a kind, gentle man and mercifully he had a gentle death.

After his death, Mr. Hale's oldest friend Mr. Bell and Margaret's Aunt Shaw arrived in Milton to take care of the Hales' funeral arrangements and to organize an auction of the house items. People close to the couple were informed privately of Margaret and John's engagement, since the official announcement would be delayed by least 9 months – although Mrs. Shaw said 12 months was actually the proper _minimum_ amount of time to mourn the death of parents. Mrs. Shaw tried to convince Margaret and John to postpone their arrangement given the circumstances, which was seconded by Mrs. Thornton, but Margaret and John were steadfast in their desire to marry. Since they were clearly determined, Mrs. Shaw assured John he was welcome to visit Margaret in London as often as he wished. Mrs. Thornton begrudgingly made the same offer to Margaret.


	3. CH 3: Margaret Leaves Milton

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_Although an official dinner party announcing John and Margaret's engagement couldn't be given for the couple until after the mourning period for the Hales, a small, informal dinner party was arranged at the Thornton residence. It was the day before Margaret was leaving for London._

_**Milton, Thornton Residence – Dinner Party – 6:00 pm - the Evening before Margaret left Milton**_

The carriage with Mr. Bell, Mrs. Shaw and Margaret pulled up in front of the Thornton house. John had been pacing near the front window, anticipating them for 20 minutes. The rest of the guests were due in another hour – John wanted some time alone with Margaret before everyone arrived. Mrs. Thornton noticed John's nervousness all afternoon. She didn't understand his anxiety – Margaret had accepted him after all. She had never seen him as happy as he had been in the weeks following his engagement to Margaret. In spite of the impending separation and downturn in the Mill profits since the strike, he had been euphoric. Yet tonight, when the engagement became semi-official, he paced. She walked over to him.

He turned to her. "They're here," he stated, jaw clenched.

She nodded. "John, I don't understand why you aren't excited. It's what you want – isn't it? You aren't having second thoughts?"

"Yes, it's what I want. I wish we could marry tomorrow. I believe it's the thought of our separation that worries me," he admitted.

"You aren't sure of her feelings?' Mrs. Thornton bristled.

"No mother, Margaret is true and genuine in her love and affection for me. It's just that our future is based on the success of the Mill and it's proving difficult right now. We are still behind in orders. That uncertainty is the source of my….nerves. Not my love for Margaret or her love for me."

"I see. Well, you can either postpone your engagement or you can just keep working. You've built the Mill from nothing, if anyone can turn it around, it's you. I don't think you can postpone your engagement tonight though – everyone is coming here expecting to celebrate it. You would have to wait until Margaret is in London, if that's what you want to do."

"No – I will not postpone – ever – not willingly anyway. Never mind – you're right – I should be excited and forget the Mill for tonight. I can think about that tomorrow. Let's go to the door and greet our guests," he suggested.

The stood near the door. They soon heard a knock and a waiting servant opened the door, ushering in their guests. The servant collected Mr. Bell's hat and the ladies' shawls.

"Good evening Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Bell, Miss Hale," John said extending his hand to Mr. Bell and bowing his head. Mrs. Shaw and Margaret bowed their heads in return to John and Mrs. Thornton.

"Good evening Mr. Thornton, Mrs. Thornton," Mr. Bell shook John's hand and nodded to Mrs. Thornton. Mrs. Thornton bowed her head to the guests.

"Please come in," Mrs. Thornton said, leading the guests to the grand dining room where drinks and appetizers would be served.

"Miss Hale, may I speak to you a moment?" John asked, holding out his arm.

"Of course Mr. Thornton," Margaret smiled brightly at him, taking his arm.

John smiled and led her away from the others to the main parlor. John closed the door behind them.

"You look beautiful this evening," he said pulling her close, and then kissing her softly, careful not to linger too long. It was hard enough knowing this would be their last evening together as it was.

Kissing him softly in return, Margaret said smiling, "Thank you….handsome."

John kissed her forehead, releasing her.

"Would you sit with me?" he asked solemnly.

Margaret felt gripped by fear – suddenly worried he wanted to break off their engagement in light of her imminent departure for London. She composed her expression, masking her anxiety at what he might say.

"Of course," she said carefully.

John placed a hand on the small of her back and led her to a small loveseat. They sat down. John pulled her hands into his and kissed them alternately. Margaret willed herself not to cry. Oh God – they had already been so intimate with each other, she thought desperately. He was the only man she would ever want, of that she was certain.

Of course, John was completely unaware of the direction Margaret's thoughts had taken and the riot of emotions she struggled with. He looked down a moment, gathering himself. Margaret choked back a sob. He looked up startled at the sound and saw tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't stem the tide of her emotions after all, it was too much. She felt her heart would burst.

"My God, Margaret what's wrong?" he asked anxiously, cupping her chin with his hand while gently raising it, so she would look at him.

"Are you going to break off our engagement?" she asked tearfully.

"Oh, sweetheart, no, that's the furthest thing from my mind." He pulled her to him. She buried her head in the crook of his neck trying to gain control of her emotions as he stroked her hair. "Shhhhh. Forgive me, I didn't mean to frighten you."

After a few minutes, Margaret exhaled a jagged breath and pulled away, looking at him closely. "You looked so serious."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry; I'm serious to a fault. Unfortunately, I was thinking of how much I'll miss you when I should be thinking how lucky I am to be with you now. You've made me happier than I could ever hope. I love you – our separation won't change that." He reached into his pocket. Lifting her left hand, he slid an emerald and diamond engagement ring on her ring finger.

All of Margaret's anxiety disappeared instantly. Her face lit up and she gave him a dazzling smile. He smiled in return, although a little sheepishly, given the unintentional sadness he caused her.

"Margaret, my love, will you marry me?" he asked.

"Oh John, a thousand times yes!" she said happily, eyes shining, all traces of upset gone from her face.

"Do you like it? The emerald reminds me of your eyes, which have captivated me since we first met."

"It's perfect – absolutely, completely perfect!" she exclaimed, stretching her hand out to admire it – a large, square-cut emerald, flanked by diamonds on a braided platinum band. She threw her arms around his neck and darted kisses all over his face excitedly, until he felt dizzy and light-headed at the onslaught. She laughed at his stunned expression. John finally relaxed, smiling broadly - pushing aside his worries. Margaret's enthusiasm was too powerful to withstand. He hugged and kissed her passionately, without restraint, ready to celebrate their promise to marry - wishing to never let her go.

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The day after the Thornton Dinner Party, Mrs. Shaw took Margaret back to London and Mr. Bell returned to Oxford. Dixon stayed in Milton to complete the auction with plans to join Margaret in London afterwards. Margaret and John could barely stand saying goodbye. Margaret gave John her father's book of Plato, as a sentimental gift to remember him by. It held a special place in John's heart and he told her so, receiving it appreciatively. A separation so early in their engagement disturbed them; but they kept reassuring each other it was a relatively short time to be apart considering they had the rest of their lives to be together.

John watched, heart aching, as Margaret's carriage pulled away from his house. It was a cold, snowy day – and he felt numb with loss. A white world of emptiness engulfed him and he felt certain there would be no color or warmth until she returned.


	4. CH 4: Letters

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_**Letter from Margaret to John – 3 weeks after departing Milton**_

Dearest John –

I know we agreed to be patient, but I miss you more every day and wish we could escape convention and marry immediately – elopement sounds very appealing to me right now. I look at my beautiful engagement ring often to remind myself it is only a matter of time, but still I wake up every morning wishing I could turn my head and see you lying next to me. Waiting the better part of a year seems a lifetime. What would you say to an early elopement? I would risk the disapproval of my relations and show up on your doorstep, if I didn't fear your mother refusing entry. I know I shouldn't complain, but it's hard enough losing my beloved parents and now I am separated from you as well. Propriety loses its shine more every day in the face of the sacrifice it requires of us.

Dixon returned from Milton last week and couldn't be happier – she is a Londoner at heart and fondly remembers her early days here attending to my mother when she was unmarried and much sought after by eager suitors. I do not share Dixon's enthusiasm. I have settled into a monotonous routine of activities that occupy my time from morning to night. The artifice of London society is grating and I long for the people of Milton and their straight-forward, honest expressions. I try my best to be agreeable, but really I feel like life has simply stopped and won't begin again until we are together. So I bide my time, stay busy, and try to be pleasant.

We have regular social engagements with acquaintances of my Aunt Shaw as well as the Lennoxes. I'm not sure you know of the Lennoxes. My dear cousin Edith – who is like a sister to me – married Captain Maxwell Lennox. Captain Lennox has a brother Henry, who is an attorney in London. You met Henry briefly at the World Fair, but you didn't meet my aunt or Edith or Captain Lennox, who were also with me that day. Henry occasionally advises my aunt on legal matters and visits often. I've known him since the days when Captain Lennox was courting Edith and he has become like another family member – whatever one calls a (nearly) brother-in-law's brother – perhaps a (nearly) cousin is the most accurate description. The Lennoxes, like my aunt, are life-long residents of London and their family has a great number of relations here as well as social and business contacts. Their social circle has become part of our regular calendar now.

My brother is safe again and I pray that always continues. Henry has agreed to look into his case to see if anything can be done to release him from legal jeopardy. Henry is known as a very shrewd lawyer so if there are legal means to save my brother, I'm sure he will discover them.

I have started writing a journal, and drawing and painting in watercolor to occupy my time when I'm not other-wise engaged, in addition to reading, of course. I sketch and paint scenes in London as well as portraits. I actually write to you and about you every day in my journal since I long to talk to you but I don't want to overwhelm you with letters – I know how busy you are. I try to do embroidery as well, but I have little patience for it which shows in the stitches, so I have mostly abandoned that practice. If your mother saw my work, I'm sure she would be appalled.

My aunt insisted I resume my French studies and has hired a tutor to come to the house regularly. She was concerned that I lost some of my skill in that language since leaving London. I'm considering a study in Spanish as well – I think it may become useful in the future. In addition, I am practicing piano again so I can play at social gatherings. Aunt Shaw also insisted on new clothes so that I am presentable for our engagements. My beautiful, fashionable, cousin Edith was only too happy to help in that area and we spent many days shopping together. My aunt is very generous, and I certainly appreciate her care and regard, but sometimes I feel like a French-talking, music-playing, gilded doll.

I am enclosing a watercolor I painted of myself as I thought of you, while employing a mirror. I know that I look sad, but what else would you expect? Did I mention that I miss you? That I love you?

With all my love and affection, thinking of you, dreaming of you,

Margaret

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John worked tirelessly at the Mill. Mrs. Thornton brought him food and tea and laid a blanket over him when she found him asleep at his desk, which was often. He received Margaret's letter and felt better. He reread it often, smiling at her complaints because they all related in some way to her desire to be reunited with him. She was being kept busy and was well cared for by her aunt. He couldn't ask for more than that under the circumstances. Knowing she was safe and secure, and impatient to return to him helped to breathe life back into him and remove some of the numbness he felt since she left. John steeled his determination. Margaret loved him - she missed him – and that was enough for now.

_**Letter from John to Margaret – 5 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

Dearest Margaret –

You occupy my thoughts constantly, even when I should be concentrating on Mill business. It can't be helped. I don't know how I used to get through the day without knowing this love for you and having yours in return. Thoughts of you comfort me but also torment because I am reminded of your absence. The day your father died was tragic but also a miracle and a dream and complete madness – because you accepted me that very same day and expressed more love than I dared expect. Those memories fortify me daily. I look forward to the time when I return home to find you waiting for me – when I can hold you again – when I can go to sleep and wake with you next to me. Every day will be a gift because you will be my wife. If we are blessed with children, I will be the luckiest of men because you will be their mother. Then I will be content.

Please be patient. I want the best life for us and although I wish you were here every day, you will be much happier with the support of friends and family. An elopement would be an upset for everyone we care about. Doing anything to jeopardize our family and social relations would prove unbearable later, so you must remember that when you feel impatient. Also, my mother would never forgive me – she expects a proper wedding and she would take you back to London herself if need be. Besides, I want a wedding to show you off to Milton and to see you finally walking down the aisle to me - more beautiful than ever – and then to declare our love and marry before God.

My days are full of Mill business. I will work as hard as necessary to recover from the strike. Of that you can be certain. Nothing can shake my resolve. Your watercolor is beautiful – please keep sending them to me – I would especially treasure one of you happy - maybe even smiling? I know something of Henry Lennox from Mr. Bell. It seems he is considered a good match for eligible young women in London. I hope your brother can be cleared, although I would prefer that it came with help from a more established, much older, thoroughly married lawyer. Surely a more experienced lawyer would be of greater benefit?

I visit your parents' graves every Sunday after the church service. I read a passage from Plato aloud and leave flowers. I tell them we will visit together as husband and wife when you return. I already think of them as my departed in-laws.

With all my heart,

John

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Margaret was happy to receive John's letter, but it also made her ache for him. She loved and missed her parents and wanted to honor their memory with a proper mourning period, but their absence made her long for a life with John even more. They had finally overcome their discord and realized they loved each other in kind. All her prejudices for his northern ways converted to admiration. He was the most steadfast, honorable, caring, intense, captivating man she had ever known. So strong and handsome – remembering his touch made her blush, thinking of their passion. His marks took weeks to fade and finally disappear. She looked forward to lying with him as his wife.

John didn't share details about the Mill, except to say that it took all his time. He was honest but she knew he would protect her from bad news. He wouldn't tell her anything about the Mill business unless he had to. She thought maybe she could help somehow. There were lots of wealthy men in London looking to invest money. She decided Nicholas would be the best person to ask about what was happening at the Mill.

_**Letter from Margaret to Higgins – 6 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

Dear Nicholas -

How are you and Mary and the children? I miss all of you so much! I only truly realized how much I came to care about Milton and its people with their honest, straightforward ways when I was forced to leave. Even though I lost both parents while there, I look forward to returning - I feel it is where I truly belong. And of course, my beloved fiancé is there.

Can you keep an eye on Mr. Thornton for me and let me know how everything is going? He only says that Mill business takes all his time. I'm not sure what I can do, but I regularly meet people in London who are looking for sound investments. Perhaps they could be persuaded to invest in the cotton business? Anyway, it would help to know the truth of things.

I've been sketching and painting in watercolor since coming to London. I used to paint when I was here previously and also in Helston – you may have seen some of my paintings when you visited our house in Milton. I am enclosing a scene from a park near where I live in London.

I look forward to the day I see you again in Milton.

Fond regards,

Margaret

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_**Letter from Higgins to Margaret – 9 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

Dear Miss Margaret -

Mary and the children are well. The young ones are learning to read well enough. I'll keep an eye on the Master for you. He's burning the midnight oil for sure - he's a right stubborn old bulldog. We're still behind on orders but some of us put in extra work on our own time to help catch up. We can't afford to let the Mill go under either - work is hard to come by. The Master works early to late every day but I see him and Mrs. Thornton at services every Sunday.

He suggested a scheme where we buy food in bulk and then prepare good, cheap meals for the Mill hands. He says a well-fed worker works better. Mary is the cook. Master eats with us often and always when Mary makes her lamb stew. She's a fair cook my Mary, just like her mother, God rest her soul. Your Thornton is a good man – he's a bit of a puzzle – hard as nails but then he does something like open a kitchen to make sure his workers get a proper meal. He's the best Master in Milton and I'm proud to work for him.

I'm grateful every day you asked me to go to Marlborough Mill for work. Him being so smitten with you he took me on even after the strike – when no one else would. I never saw a man so happy as the day when the Master told me you were getting married.

We look forward to seeing your bonny face again.

Be well,

Nicholas

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Margaret was feeling impatient again. She and John wrote regularly, every couple of weeks – back and forth – but she knew the Mill was still struggling and she aimed to do something about it – or at least try. Nicholas had just written again and things were much the same. John worked around the clock and orders were behind, but then he went so far as to say, "the Master would brighten at a visit from you." It must be bad for Nicholas to divulge so much. John needed her – and she felt determined to find a way to go to him. She was_ very_ impatient indeed.

_**Letter from Margaret to Mr. Bell – 10 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

Dear Mr. Bell -

I hope all is well with you. Thank you again for taking care of all the necessary arrangements for my beloved parents. You were my father's oldest and dearest friend and your care was evident in every manner during the service, even choosing favorite flowers and Bible passages. The sadness of the occasion was lifted by those sentimental considerations. They are now looked after with a visit every Sunday by my loving fiancé.

I am aware that Marlborough Mill is still suffering ill effects from the strike. On our social visits in town I meet many business men. I think they would benefit from investing in the Mill but I am certain they would not appreciate my broaching the subject as men do not discuss business with women. Anything of such a serious nature would be considered both improper and impertinent coming from me. Would you be able to help? That is, perhaps you could come to London and speak generally about the Mill and see if anyone is interested in pursuing business there? Or, perhaps you know gentlemen of your acquaintance who would welcome the venture?

Please excuse my boldness, but I am also wondering if you would consider bringing me with you next time you go to Milton so that I could see my fiancé? There is no chaperone for me to make the trip, except Henry Lennox, but I'm quite sure Mr. Thornton would not appreciate my arriving in Milton with Henry, even though I think of him as family. Mr. Thornton simply sees him as a single man who is of age to marry. I miss my fiancé dearly and I know he cannot take the time to come to London right now. He works early to late every day, only taking a break on Sunday to attend services and then to visit and tend my parents' graves.

I am well looked after with the kind regards of my aunt. My aunt and cousin have helped lessen my grief greatly, and I stay quite busy with social visits and other activities such as writing, painting, reading, French lessons, and piano practice. I know I should also embroider, but I have little interest in it and it is embarrassingly evident in the pieces I produce.

Please consider my requests – they spring from a sincere heart, even if they seem shocking. My fiancé knows nothing about this, and I'm sure he would not approve – he's such a strong, proud man - but I am certain you will understand my feelings and forgive any impropriety. It surprises me how much I miss Milton and its people, the place and customs I was so loath to embrace, but the intensity of my feeling is true – especially for _my person_. I think a visit would lift my spirits beyond measure and I would be in your debt for such kindness.

My fondest regards,

Miss Margaret Hale

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_**Letter from Mr. Bell to Margaret – 12 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

My Dearest God-Daughter -

I am well. As I mentioned previously, being able to oversee the service for your dear parents was a privilege and an honor and I am quite pleased it gave you comfort.

My dear, of course you can come to Milton with me, I'm sorry it didn't occur to me first. Most engaged couples would be spending all their time together, so I quite understand your feeling of deprivation.

My next visit to Milton is in four weeks. Can you make the necessary inquiries to ensure a visit at that time would be acceptable? I will write to your aunt today and ask her permission to act as your chaperone. Please don't worry about Marlborough Mill. I know a willing investor – I will speak to Mr. Thornton about the particulars when I see him. It would be best not to mention anything to Mr. Thornton in your letter – as you say, he is a proud man. We should allow him to believe the impetus for the business proposal originated with me.

Please let me know when you have secured a reply from Mr. Thornton. I will come to London for a short visit, as I have business to conduct and I would like to pay my respects to your aunt. Afterwards, we can make the journey to Milton. I believe a week's stay there would be appropriate.

Yours affectionately,

Mr. Adam Bell

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Mrs. Shaw confided to Mr. Bell when they were in Milton that she hoped Margaret would break off her engagement with Mr. Thornton after she had been in London a while. She thought Margaret would find much better marriage prospects in town. Her daughter Edith hoped Margaret and Henry Lennox would end up together. Margaret and Henry got along quite well and if they married she would be near her remaining family, instead of a half day train ride away in Milton. Milton was such a dirty city and it lacked culture as well. Margaret's French had suffered from neglect while she was there and she needed lessons to restore her skill in the language.

_**Letter from Mr. Bell to Mrs. Shaw – 12 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

Dear Mrs. Shaw -

I hope you and yours are doing well and in good health.

My dear god-daughter Margaret dearly misses her fiancé so I offered to take her with me on my next business trip to Milton, four weeks hence. May I request your permission to take her with me on this visit? I would come to London for a few days prior to leaving for Milton to conduct some business and then pay my respects to you, if you would be amenable.

I think a week's visit in Milton would be enough time for me look after my interests there and give Margaret a much needed respite. She is after all newly engaged and understandably finding the absence of her fiancé hard to bear, especially after so recently losing her beloved parents. She has had to endure so much loss in a short amount of time; I feel quite sympathetic and I would be grateful to be able to relieve her sorrow in some small way.

Please reply at your earliest convenience and I will make the necessary arrangements.

Kind regards,

Mr. Adam Bell

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_**London, Shaw Residence – Present Day**_

Margaret ate breakfast alone – she was down earlier than usual – and was done before anyone else joined her. It was just as well since she had woken up a little out of sorts after her strange dream with John disappearing into the mist and seeing herself laid out in a coffin. She hoped to hear from Mr. Bell soon. He was always so gracious, she was sure he would help her to see John. Heartache was even pervading her dreams – it was definitely time for a visit to Milton.

She had a bath and wrote in her journal for a while. She planned to add a drawing to the journal later in the day, after her French lesson and piano practice. There weren't any social visits planned until later, so she had time to visit with her aunt and Edith. Maybe she would see if Edith wanted to take Sholto to the park in his pram so they could get some fresh air and have a nice walk together.

Aunt Shaw insisted Margaret spend most of her time in one of the common rooms when she was at home. She did not want Margaret shutting herself away in her room, unless she was unwell or especially in need of rest. Margaret gathered her supplies for the day – writing, drawing and painting materials as well as a book and her journal. As time allowed throughout the day, she would alternate her attention pursuing one of those activities. Today she especially felt like writing and drawing, so she would probably concentrate most of her attention on her journal.

Walking into the day room, she saw Edith and her aunt sitting. Edith was embroidering and her aunt was reading a letter.

"Good morning aunt. Good morning Edith,' Margaret said cheerfully as she drew near.

Edith smiled brightly, "Good morning Margaret. Did you sleep well?" Edith asked politely.

"Yes, thank you Edith. And you?"

"Perfectly," she responded.

"Good morning Margaret. You have a letter from Mr. Bell. He sent one to me as well," Aunt Shaw said in a slightly clipped tone. Mr. Bell's letter mentioned taking Margaret to Milton. She had hoped Margaret's affection for Mr. Thornton would diminish with time and distance, but that clearly was not the case.

Margaret rushed over excitedly. "I so enjoy Mr. Bell's letters!" She put her supplies on a bureau and sat at the table with her aunt and Edith. She read the letter quickly and then looked up eagerly at her aunt.

Her aunt softened at her eagerness and smiled. "Yes, of course you can go Margaret. Mr. Bell is a perfectly acceptable travel companion."

"Oh, thank you aunt, I shall write to Mr. Thornton straight away," she replied happily. The uncertainty and anxiety she had been feeling dissolved and giddy excitement took its place.

Edith and Mrs. Shaw looked at each other and smiled, delighted at Margaret's immediate transformation. They had been concerned about her low spirits since she left Milton, but now the remedy was at hand. She would be well again.

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_**Letter from Mrs. Shaw to Mr. Bell – 12 weeks after Margaret left Milton**_

Dear Mr. Bell –

I hope you are well.

I received your letter today and felt compelled to respond immediately, given Margaret's unabashed enthusiasm for your visit to Milton. I gave her my permission, of course. You were certainly correct – a visit will do wonders to improve her spirits. Already her whole demeanor has changed – she is rosy-cheeked and happy – the same lovely girl I remember when she lived with us previously. I do wish the inspiration was from a different source, but she's completely smitten with her Mr. Thornton, so I can only wish her the best if this is her response.

Please let me know your plans and we will look forward to seeing you when you come to London. I will plan a small dinner party for one of the nights (of your choosing) during your stay.

Thank you for your care and consideration of Margaret, she has suffered so much. It's good to see her happy again.

Kind regards,

Mrs. Shaw

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**_NOTE TO READERS_**

I have responded to some readers with information about the story (thus far) and thought others might enjoy the discussion. It also made me think of some other background information that fueled the story. So here are a few items regarding story/plot development that may be of interest:

**Thornton asks about the man he saw with Margaret at the train station (Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting)**

Margaret is flustered when she meets Thornton unexpectedly at the train station and she admits that the young man Thornton saw was a "family member" but does not divulge more than that. Thornton does not press her for information, although he is annoyed that she is not more forthcoming about the man's identity. Mostly he's just relieved the stranger is not a suitor, since he feared as much when he saw a travel bag in the Hale's front hall (when he brought fruit for Mrs. Hale and tried to visit after the World Fair). Thornton assumed at that point Margaret was already lost to him. By the fourth chapter ("Letters"), Margaret has told Thornton she has a brother and she mentions that learning Spanish may prove useful later.

**The coffin scene in Margaret's dream (Chapter 2: Engaged at Last)  
**

The coffin scene is _mostly_ symbolic. The color white (as it was in the BBC series) indicates loss and struggle (the white "fluff" in the mill is slow death; the white snow falling in the mill yard fills John with loneliness and a sense of loss as Margaret's carriage pulls away from him). At this point in the story, Margaret is love-sick for John. As Mr. Bell sympathizes, she's newly engaged and normally the betrothed couple would spend all their time together. Instead, she's in London, being groomed in social engagements, music, and language lessons as a lady should through her aunt's firm direction. Of course, much of that direction comes from a place of love - the aunt wants Margaret to stay busy so she doesn't fall into the despair of grief.

Margaret's anxiety (love-sickness plus grief plus a myriad of other uncomfortable emotions) expresses itself in dream with the image of her in a death pose. Part of her "purity" died in those intimate moments with John. This relates to Victorian standards, since women were told their "purity" - in blunt terms, their virginity, was their greatest asset and should be protected, hence all the rules regulating chaperones and the focus on reputation. Given this influence, Margaret can't help but feel that loss and some guilt since she isn't actually married yet with the security of a marriage union protecting the propriety of relations between a couple. One of the problems with engagements in the Victorian age was the possibility of that engagement breaking and in so doing putting the woman's reputation at risk, lessening her prospects for another suitable or advantageous match. Also, Margaret is young and this is the first time she has ever been in love. It feels to her as if a part of her is dying without the constancy of John. They finally recognized and admitted and then committed to their love, only to be separated by the demands of propriety. John is also love-sick, but he is a good 10+ years older than Margaret. He has experienced hardship and in turn his strength of character and work ethic is forged through struggle, so he bears deprivation better. At the same time, death is not quite done with Margaret yet...

The death and grief over Mr. Hale's sudden death unites John and Margaret. Mr. Hale died during the same hour that John and Margaret decided to join their lives. His death may be viewed as the sacrifice that allowed their union - as change generally requires _some_ kind of sacrifice. When John and Margaret are uncharacteristically left alone together, they make their first foray into intimacy, which is fueled by grief but also shows the intensity of the feelings both pushed away until they were finally free to express themselves. Also, superstitiously or symbolically, they were able to experience each other after they stopped the clocks - a stolen moment as it were, when time stopped. After this chapter, Thornton is mostly referred to as "John" indicating his elevation to a personal role and his closeness to Margaret.

**The engagement ring (Chapter 3: Margaret Leaves Milton)**

John's anxiety before and partly into the evening of the unofficial engagement dinner party is related to his ability to fully support a wife and future children in light of the Mill's economic trouble. He is aware of the risk and both Mrs. Shaw and Mrs. Thornton have urged the couple to call off the engagement, at least until after the subscribed mourning period for the Hales. Both women are aware of the uncertainty of support. John and Margaret are determined to marry, but John feels the weight of it since Margaret is without a dowry, which means the full economic burden falls to him. However, his strong work ethic and love of Margaret propels him. Even though he is very serious and practical, he has enough confidence so that he willingly, albeit a bit desperately, proceeds with their plans.

Margaret is well aware of the Mill's struggle since the strike and her lack of fortune. A woman without fortune would not be considered a desirable match during this time - a "love match" was still less common than the typical marriage of mutual economic benefit. Of course, there were still "trophy wives" that older, wealthy men married - Fanny Thornton would fall into this category, to a degree. Upon marriage, all of a woman's assets became her husband's and even when she died, the assets remained with him, she couldn't even will monies to her children. So the man often considered the woman's fortune as the primary incentive to marry and the woman looked to the man's ability to provide a comfortable life after she gave up whatever money was staked in her by her father. A wife was considered her husband's property and so marriage was a very risky business for women. Since Margaret had no fortune, just her beauty and position of "an accomplished lady" as the daughter of a gentleman, she was in a very vulnerable position in terms of marriage prospects.

The engagement ring itself symbolizes Margaret and shows John's love for her in its choosing, as well as his full commitment - since it is worn for all the world to see. The emerald represents her green eyes, the diamonds her purity and clarity of mind, and the platinum band her fair complexion. After all, John was taken very early on by Margaret's beauty and lively mind, evident in their scholarly discussions with Mr. Hale.

**Correspondence during John and Margaret's separation (Chapter 4: Letters)**

Letters were the chief form of correspondence between people at a distance - or even within town (such as letters sent both by post and messengered within London) - as well as a telegraphed messages when something urgent needed to be conveyed.

Sending and receiving letters was an important part of daily, society life. Invitations were sent and received, and relationships were supported and initiated. John and Margaret face many obstacles and restrictions during their early engagement and can only declare their feelings for each other during their separation through letters. But clearly, it is not enough, so Margaret employs the help of Mr. Bell to arrange a visit to Milton in order to see John. Whereas Margaret writes to John, Nicholas, and Mr. Bell regularly, John only writes to Margaret. He has no idea she is gathering information about him and the Mill. Her need to write and become more informed will play out in other ways as the story progresses.

**Feedback/reviews are most welcome - it encourages me to keep writing : )**

- _KylieKyotie_


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